Never Let It Happen Again
by miamam
Summary: Written for Let s Write Sherlock on tumblr. After a nearly disastrous case, Sherlock and John share a tense taxi ride back to Baker Street. With emotions running high, they finally arrive back at 221B, and then John bawls silently. I. e.: without words.


**A/N** English is not my first language. I´ve read a lot but haven´t written a word in this language, so I have to apologize for my shitty grammar. I tried hard though and I hope it wouldn´t discourage you from reading my bit for Let´s Write Sherlock. :-P

After a nearly disastrous case, Sherlock and John share a tense taxi ride back to Baker Street. With emotions running high, they finally arrive back at 221B, and then John bawls silently. I. e.: without words.

.oOo.

John is almost saint when it comes to calm mind, right? But now...

_You bloody idiot. You fucking moron._ John´s eyes are thunderous.

Sherlock pretends he doesn´t see John´s face at all. Even when he closes the door of 221B, turns around and walks round John, who is fuming and quite pointedly _staring_ at him. John follows him upstairs in silence and really, really tries to stay composed. Maybe you´d say something like: Not big deal, it´s _John_, and John is able to stay calm.

Well.

If you´ve just agreed, then you are wrong.

John can stay calm, most of times. Very often. Quite. Well, not much recently. But it´s Sherlock´s fault anyway. And right now everything is just far worse!

Honestly, do try to stay composed when about twenty minutes ago, chasing a junkie douche-bag who was running his last race in his life around a dockyard, you have just realized that the love of your life had been taking that _shit_ again along-with _that_ junkie, in addition you have a sodding laryngitis and can´t say a sodding word out loud because it hurts _a lot_ to talk at all!

_Buggering fucking bugger._

So. The only way John can express himself is by _staring_. And right now Sherlock avoids to observe. Sherlock knows he has a big problem and yet he isn´t quite compliant about receiving any kind of swearing.

John is sure that it´s been a while since his flatmate, his best_ friend_, his fucking _lover_, when that _little piece of_... You know, when Sherlock has actually uttered he needed to go for a _walk_ (as it was a normal thing in 221B! Sherlock going anywhere without purpose, ha-bloody-ha! And that´s partly the problem with John´s momentary mood, he knows he shouldn´t have believed a word about walking round a bloody garden, like a bloody teddy bear)...

Anyway.

When he eventually came back, he was so restless and_ not good_ that he went right in his bedroom, locked himself in, and stayed there until eight in the morning. That is: for nearly seven hours.

John didn´t see anything peculiar except for the lock, but he knew Sherlock was not quite normal, then it didn´t really matter.

But now. Now John knows. He is absolutely sure he´s deduced Sherlock well after this last case.

And yes. Oh, yes, Sherlock, you have an enormously big problem.

Sherlock is not an idiot. He bloody well knows that John knows, but he relies on his charisma and shiny blue eyes (John told him he had really shiny and beautiful blue eyes, observing, isn´t he just? It happened few months ago, after one of the Great Experimental Shags.) and so he pretends he doesn´t know a thing about why is John so mutely expressive while he has, you know, the laryngitis.

John goes to the kitchen, fills the kettle and waits when it boils, and all the time he repeatedly glances at Sherlock, who is sitting in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin and –

_There. The tremor, the_ fucking _tremor! I´ve got you, you know!_

John makes few steps towards Sherlock ant points with his eyes to Sherlock´s hands which are shivering. Sherlock frowns and puts his hands under his bottom, petulantly glaring back at John.

„What is it, John?" he asks and clenches his jaw.

John tilts his head to side and narrows his eyes.

_I know what this shit is about. You were high. Now you are _not_. You need some, am I right?_

John raises his eyebrows and then the kettle boils, so he turns round and makes his tea. His tea only.

Sherlock frowns deeper.

„I´d like to have tea, too, John."

John raises his cup.

_Cheers. You are perfectly able of making one all by yourself._

Sherlock clicks his tongue and looks away. It doesn´t have an effect on John´s voicing his accusations _voicelessly_ at all.

_Sherlock Holmes, you are definitely the most untrustworthy, reckless and horrible person._

„Don´t exaggerate, John, it was just this once," murmurs Sherlock, still looking away.

_Don´t make it worse. Don´t lie to me. I´m disappointed. You really disappointed me, Sherlock._

Sherlock huffs and looks at John.

„And what _exactly_ have I done?" Sherlock´s eyes narrows, trying to held with the lie for a little more.

_We both know perfectly well what. I may be an idiot but I am not an imbecile –_

Sherlock takes a deep breath to recite what those words mean in fact, but John raises his hand.

_- and don´t interrupt me!_

Sherlock obeys with pouting his lips.

John sighs, puts his cup down on the round tea table near his chair, and leans his elbows on his knees, looking down. Sherlock edges a bit. He can manage angry John, easily. He cannot do anything similar with sad John. Sad John is bad.

_What if you told yourself it had been really good and that you needed more?_

Sherlock snorts.

_What if you decided to go there again, to buy few doses again?_

Sherlock looks aside.

_What if you overdosed? What if they killed you?_

John looks at Sherlock, wrinkles around his mouth deep and tight. Circles under his eyes blue-ish. And there... Is there a grey hair on his left temple?

Sherlock´s feelings are still new to him, at least in situations like this. John makes his feelings raw and unexpected, and every time he feels, it has disastrous aftermath. Right now, Sherlock fears he really _has_ disappointed John, in a way he hadn´t before. And also... Also he fears that he´ll lose John after all.

He kneels before John´s legs, puts his hands (quite shaky, dammit) on his knees and squeezes a little.

„John?" he says lowly.

John sighs and closes his eyes.

„John? I have no inclination of repeating my drug past. It was stupid. But this was for the case..."

John´s head snaps up and he stares at Sherlock. Sherlock pauses and swallows.

_You can´t be serious!_

„It was, actually! I had to gain their confidence! And buying some stuff would have been the best way to achieve that." Sherlock strokes John´s thighs with his thumbs now, but it doesn´t have an effect on John whatsoever, so he stops eventually.

_So it wasn´t just... It wasn´t the first time I saw you there... I just guessed... I thought you were upset and so you locked yourself and I was just so dumb I didn´t suspect... I just believed..._

John´s eyes fills with tears and he blinks furiously, looking away.

Now, disappointment _and_ sadness. Sherlock nearly panics.

„I am sorry, John. It will not be repeated again, I swear."

_Not even for a case then?_

„I-I..." Sherlock blinks and John frowns.

„No. Not even then," sighs Sherlock. And he means it, John can tell.

_I couldn´t stand it again, you know._

„I know," says Sherlock quietly and he cups John´s jaw, caressing his skin over his cheek and leans forward to kiss his lover on his sweet lips. At first, it´s almost just a peck, John doesn´t respond and Sherlock is nervous, but Sherlock doesn´t give up, he kisses him again, and again, and finally, with a quiet sob, John deepens the kiss.

And instantly, Sherlock feels what John feels. Like it was vice-versa, he´s so afraid he´d lose John, it almost consumes him. This empathy, this weird thing he doesn´t understand, but he can´t say it doesn´t exist.

„I´m sorry, I´m sorry," he mutters among kisses and he means it and John sighs and hugs Sherlock, nuzzling at Sherlock´s collarbone.

„All right," croaks John quietly and his voice is all wrong and it also hurts a lot but John says it anyway, because Sherlock can deduce a bloody well lot about him, and yet there are things which are better said out loud. „´S right, love," whispers John.

_Just don´t jeopardize yourself like this. I can shoot for you. I can fight for you. But I really can´t fight drugs when they´re in your veins, your beautiful body._

„I love you, John." Sherlock closes his eyes and hugs tighter.


End file.
